


A Better Cat Trap

by GoblinCatKC



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Blackmail, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Bondage as Therapy?, Caught, Chains Instead of Rope, Dubious Consent, Leashed, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Objectification, Teasing, Turtlecest, Whipping, collared, forced blowjob, tcest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10005806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinCatKC/pseuds/GoblinCatKC
Summary: Michelangelo kept calling Klunk the “best ninja ever.” Leonardo knew it was dumb, but he couldn’t help growing jealous. And then he gave up and began to play Michelangelo’s game, only to realize he wasn’t the only one playing.





	1. Bestest Ninja Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Replaced Ice Cream Kitty with Klunk, the Mirage orange tabby. Even Michelangelo would not say that ICK is the best ninja ever.

Meditating in the dojo, Leonardo knelt, the bottom edge of his shell taking most of his weight as he focused on the candle before him. The burden of taking care of his family often overwhelmed him—retreating to his old habits of meditation, retreating to the safety and solitude of his mind, eased the growing sense of responsibility that Splinter had placed on him.

Across the lair, he heard Raphael and Donatello working in the garage, maneuvering a new engine in the van. Chains rattled, heavy steel clanked together, and Raphael cursed in mild pain amidst Donatello’s sympathetic laughter.

Leonardo frowned. A little more focus and the garage disappeared from his mind.

In the main room, flopped over on the sofa, Michelangelo played with Klunk, yelping each time she poked him with her claws.

“Aw, who’s a good little kitty cat?” Michelangelo cooed. “Yes, you are. Yes, you are. You’re an adorable little kitty.”

Reassuring to hear him so close, but Leonardo forced himself to go deeper, to push out his brother’s presence and cut himself off.

It wasn’t easy. Michelangelo was close and loud, almost impossible to push aside.

“Such a good little hunter,” Michelangelo said. “Stealthy little ninja. Who’s the best ninja, huh?”

Despite himself, Leonardo smiled.

“You are,” Michelangelo said, audibly nuzzing the cat. “Better ninja than Leo, too, I bet.”

Leonardo’s eyes were closed, but he rolled them regardless. With a little effort, he put Michelangelo aside and slipped into deep meditation.

* * *

Michelangelo began dressing up Klunk.

It started with a vampire pet costume he found in a thrift store. For a week, Klunk hunted mice with a vampire cape and a little bow tie, and Leonardo wasn’t sure if that made her cute or disturbing when she ate mice.

Then came the Yoda costume. That didn’t last long. Klunk ripped it off of her head and left it in the litter box.

It was when Leonardo took his turn in the kitchen that he saw her leap from the floor to the counter to the top of the fridge. What he thought was a pair of antennae were actually two little swords strapped to her back, and a blue mask around her head that she didn’t seem to mind.

The comments from his brothers were a lot less cute.

“Now _that_ is a silent ninja.”

“See, Leo, she never gets thrown around by the bad guys.”

“Aw, if I give you a fish treat, will you—ow, lay off, joykill!”

Later on, while washing the dishes, Leonardo gave Klunk the portion of tuna she’d come to expect from him, and he untied the mask and sword belt while he ate.

“Sorry, Klunk,” he murmured, petting her as she arched her back. “But this lair’s only big enough for one big brother. ‘Sides, I have to be responsible, and you are the most unresponsible cat I’ve ever met.”

* * *

Then came the cat obstacle course.

“—she goes up the ramp,” Michelangelo said, using an old glittery princess baton to point to each part of the course he’d designed. “Through the spooky tunnel, up along the balance beam—”

His baton swept along the curve of the beam, then up to another ramp.

“Then she slides down, jumps the gap and lands safe and sound on the post.”

He patted the carpeted post that was little wider than Klunk.

“I modeled it off the pipes and stuff in here,” he said, pointing at the ramp made by the large pipe that ran up along the wall, the pipe that ran across the lair twenty feet in the air, the brickwork exposed by a flood that left a dark tunnel in the wall. “And she can do it in less than 20 seconds.”

“This?” Donatello sighed. “This is why you wanted my scrap wood?”

“S'cute,” Raphael said. “And it takes up half the damn living room.”

That wasn’t exactly fair. The actual course only took up a corner, but the leftover material filled up the rest. Leonardo looked from Michelangelo, who seemed so pleased with himself, to Klunk, who had draped herself over the balance beam for a snooze and seemed as likely to run the course as Michelangelo to start cleaning.

“Just…clear the rest of it out of here,” Leonardo sighed.

“She can keep the course, though?” Michelangelo asked, opening his eyes wide with a little lip tremble.

“I don’t think she’s the one who wants it,” Leonardo said, but he shrugged noncommittedly and Michelangelo took that for a yes.

As Michelangelo cheered and took Klunk she’d get to keep her “favoritest course ever,” Raphael sighed and glared at Leonardo. Nothing needed to be said. Leonardo read his look.

“He’ll get bored of it soon enough,” Leonardo said. “You know as well as I do that stuff’ll be part of a new decoration in his room.”

Raphael tried to keep his glare up, but after a moment, he shook his head. “Yeah, and painted pink with tassels. Whatevs. It’ll keep him out of the garage.”

“What?” Michelangelo whipped around too quickly. “No way, man. I gotta finish up my kitty gear in there.”

“'Kitty gear’?” Donatello echoed. “Mikey, you’ve been keeping all your crud in there for a week–”

“Just a little longer,” Michelangelo said. “I’ll have it out in…um, a few days more.”

Leonardo left the conversation then, intent on finally getting to reorganize his room. He wasn’t about to take Splinter’s room, and he didn’t want his own to look like a teenager still lived inside, complete with strewn comic books, training manuals and a set of paper lanterns he had yet to put up.

As he turned his shell, though, he heard Michelangelo murmuring to a snoozing Klunk.

“Bestest ninja always aces the obstacle course,” he said, proud as any father.

* * *

The thought needled him for three days.

In that time, they fought two mutant moths, a giant Triceraton beetle that had somehow flown all the way from the moon and a mechanical coffee maker that broke out of Donatello’s programming. The last one had left Raphael’s arm scalded, and Donatello had spent the last afternoon changing Raphael’s bandages and pampering his brother until his guilt felt assuaged.

They had finally fallen asleep late into the night, leaving Leonardo time to rest and clear his mind. He knelt in the dojo, a single candle, kneeling as he stared into the flame.

Nothing was really different. Things were even better than before. Shredder was dead. Leonardo knew how to heal—otherwise Raphael’s burns would have been worse. And at the worst moments, he still had the memory—an actual ghost? he wasn’t sure yet—of Splinter to guide him.

But the responsibility.

That weighed heavier than ever.

Without finding real rest, Leonardo gave up and blew out the candle, looking around himself. The dojo was dark and silent, lit only by the cold moonlight drifting in from a rain gutter.

On his way to his room, however, his gaze fell back on the obstacle course. Klunk lay curled up on the post, snoozing again. He had yet to see her do anything with the course beyond nap on it, but as he looked at the pipes around the room, saw how they could be fashioned into an obstacle course…

He bit his lip.

Twenty seconds.

He was up on the ramp before he really thought of trying it, then through the cramped space inside the wall. He scraped his shell coming out, sprinting along a ledge no wider than his hand. Then he took the last pipe in a set of flips—he couldn’t slide past the heavy joints—and landed in a crouch on a spot he now saw was marked with an X, just between the couches.

He looked over his shoulder. Klunk was still fast asleep.

“Best ninja, my shell,” he muttered, heading to his room.

He didn’t see the eyes in his brother’s doorway, silently watching him go.

* * *

“You took it down already?” Raphael said. “You just finished it.”

Michelangelo grinned as he took down the rest of the ramp, leaving the post for Klunk to sleep on.

“She’s bored 'cause she finished it so fast,” he said. “So I am challenging the lair’s best ninja to a puzzle!”

“A puzzle?” Donatello asked, interested despite his better judgment.

“A battle of wits!” Michelangelo said, dropping the spare wood as he struck a pose. “Somewhere in this very lair is a hidden treasure—”

“You mean the box in the middle of your room?” Raphael sighed, unimpressed.

“—with a brand new kitty collar and treats and a leash and other kitty toys! Oh, and a camera, and a couple books, some candy…a real treasure trove.”

Michelangelo waved his hand at the whole lair.

“The key is somewhere inside. All the best ninja has to do is find it.”

Leonardo gave a rueful smile. “And if 'the best ninja’ doesn’t?”

“I know she will,” Michelangelo said. “But if she doesn’t…then alas, she shall relinquish the title of best ninja ever.”

“Oh yeah,” Raphael scoffed, petting Klunk’s back so that her fur ruffled in her sleep, “she seems real eager to start.”

“Seriously, Mikey,” Donatello said. “Where do you even get these ideas?”

“She really is the bestest ninja,” Michelangelo said. “She’s the sneakiest, stealthiest, most dangerous ninja in the whole lair.”

Leonardo said nothing at all.

* * *

It was ridiculous. Stupid, even. It shouldn’t bother him. It was just Mikey being Mikey. It was just about Klunk. He shouldn’t be jealous of the cat!

But it rankled, hearing her called the best. Leonardo trained so hard for that, put so much energy into that. He knew that his brother meant nothing by it. This was just a silly game in Michelangelo’s brain.

So why was he scouring the lair for the stupid key?

Raphael had crashed early and Donatello had followed quickly after, not sleeping for two days finally catching up to him. And Michelangelo snored audibly in his room, leaving Leonardo plenty of time to search.

It was a joke.

It was Michelangelo having fun.

It was…not having to think about responsibility or feeling so alone even with his brothers.

For a little while, he could play Michelangelo’s game and think about nothing except searching the lair for a key.

Which he found taped up underneath the kitchen cabinet, right on top of Klunk’s food tupperware.

“Well,” he murmured, “at least he gave her a fighting chance.”

But now that he had the key…his gaze slid sideways toward the door.

What exactly was in that box?

He should at least follow through on this little challenge.

He crept towards Michelangelo’s room, gently touching the door. It slid open just a hair, enough to tell him that there were no stacked cans to serve as a booby trap, and then he was inside, closing the door behind himself.

The box lay against the far wall, under a sign that read “reward for the bestest ninja ever,” and Leonardo knelt before it, sliding the key into the oversized lock.

Behind him, Michelangelo snorted.

Leonardo froze. Long seconds passed. Was his brother awake? But no, Michelangelo lay still for several seconds, then sighed and turned faintly. Then lay still. A bad dream, perhaps.

Breathing out again, Leonardo turned the key, opening the lock with the tiniest of clicks. The slide of steel as he pulled the lock away. A faint creak as he lifted the lid.

The box suddenly brightened as two flashlights clicked on, spotlighting a drawing in crayon that clearly showed a stick figure Michelangelo giving a thumbs up and a word balloon that said “good job, bro’!”

Leonardo had just enough time to realize he’d been played before a sudden burst of air and dust hit his face, and then something heavy tackled him from the side.


	2. A Chain Straitjacket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> art by H0w_d0_y0u_d0_fell0w_kids

Leonardo landed hard on his shoulder, coughing out dust in fear that he’d been hit with blinding powder or something worse. A rough nudge from behind pushed him onto his plastron, and his wrists were pushed flat on the floor. A heavy weight came on the back of his legs, holding him down from kicking.

“Gotcha,” Michelangelo sing-songed softly. “Bestest ninja ever.”

By now, Leonardo realized that he wasn’t choking and that his eyes weren’t watering in pain. Just plain dust, probably, or even just a puff of air to startle him. He started to pull against Michelangelo’s hold on him, bracing himself against the floor. If he could just push himself up–

“Now I’ll make you a deal,” Michelangelo whispered, laying down on top of him. His breath touched Leonardo’s cheek. “Good for the next thirty seconds only.”

Leonardo groaned, unable to do more than squirm under his brother’s sudden weight. Michelangelo’s knees pressed into the back of Leonardo’s thighs, making him wince. It was a warning, and Leonardo stopped moving, breathing hard under his brother.

“‘Deal’?” he muttered.

“You put your hands behind your shell,” Michelangelo said, “and let me lock you up. And I promise that I won’t play with you where Raph or Donny can see.”

Leonardo shifted underneath him, craning his neck so he could glance over his shoulder. Michelangelo wasn’t just smiling–he was grinning, his eyes wide in gleeful excitement. Leonardo had seen that look before, when Klunk had successfully caught a mouse in her claws. Michelangelo’s look promised just as much violence if Leonardo didn’t give in.

“Ten seconds,” Michelangelo said with an excited snicker.

Leonardo held out for five.

“…fine,” he huffed, relaxing.

Instantly his hands were pulled behind his shell, although Michelangelo gave him a moment to adjust his shoulders and elbows, gently bringing his wrists together and crossing them.

“Good choice,” Michelangelo murmured, kissing his cheek. “You weren’t gonna like what would’ve happened otherwise.”

Leonardo felt his wrist bands being pulled free, his spare lockpicks going with them. Then Michelangelo sat up, keeping a grip on Leonardo’s wrist with one hand and digging into the treasure box with his other. Metal clinked and rattled, and then a mass of small torus chain links fell in a pile by his face.

“…yeah?” Leonardo closed his eyes, letting Michelangelo work without putting up a fight. “What were you planning?”

Michelangelo dug in the chain until he found the end, then pulled a length of it free and drew it around and under Leonardo’s writs. He twisted the chain until it was tight, and his brother made a soft sound underneath him. With a faint sigh, Michelangelo loosened the chain by a single link. Then he took a lock from the box and slid it into the chain, clicking it shut.

“That’s not too tight?” he asked.

Leonardo twisted his hands faintly and shook his head.

“Wasn’t gonna do much,” Michelangelo said, answering his question. “Everything I already have planned.”

Michelangelo put his hands on Leonardo’s shoulders, gently hauling him up off the floor onto his knees. He held Leonardo flush against himself, putting his arms around him, holding him trapped, one hand wandering down to his thigh, his other hand sliding up to Leonardo’s throat. His fingertips touched his brother’s jaw and turned his head, forcing Leonardo to face him.

“We were just gonna play in the big room,” Michelangelo said. “Instead of in here, quiet so they don’t see it. I know Raph can be a jerk sometimes and Donny…well, he worries too much.”

A cold anxiety gathered inside Leonardo. That was no idle threat. Michelangelo routinely pulled pranks on Raphael that then spread to the whole family. Glitter traps, waking up wearing doll makeup, all of his bandanas tie-dyed…and that Michelangelo could silently pull each of them off on an unsuspecting ninja gave all of them pause. No one pulled pranks on Michelangelo. The resultant war could destroy the lair. Add a touch of bondage, and the thought was terrifying, even if Michelangelo meant nothing cruel by it.

Just a cat playing with a mouse.

But if Michelangelo was playful, then Leonardo was nothing if not patient. Silent, deceitful, and willing to play the part if it meant escaping that much faster. The tables could be turned…if he got out of those chains.

“Don would be afraid you’d kill me,” Leonardo said, forcing his voice to stay steady. “By accident.”

“Yeah,” Michelangelo chuckled. “But that is, like, totally not fair. I mean, I asked if the chain was cutting off your circulation, didn’t I? He just worries too much. I’m being careful.”

Michelangelo kissed him, held his throat in a possessive grip, squeezed his brother’s thigh enough to make him wince and squirm. Leonardo shuddered, jerked under his arm as Michelangelo cupped the very bottom of his shell. His brother’s fingers lightly touched the tip of his tail.

As Leonardo bucked in surprise, Michelangelo smiled and drew back, giving him a reassuring kiss on the cheek.

“Relax, bro’. Just enjoy the ride.”

Deft fingers slid under Leonardo’s belt, unbuckling the shoulder straps as he lipped the rest off. Michelangelo gave a low whistle as he felt the lockpicks and small shuriken hidden along the inside the belt.

“Even when you’re at home?” Michelangelo said, studying the neat row of steel lined up like little bits of armor. “You still gotta be a walking arsenal?”

“Of course,” Leonardo said with a faint nod. “Just in case.”

Leonardo didn’t complete that thought, and Michelangelo held the belt for just a moment, feeling its weight. Then he folded up the belt and set it neatly in the trunk.

Paying attention to the details, Michelangelo tapped Leonardo’s knee. His brother frowned, confused, then understood as Michelangelo made an “up” motion. Rising up on his knees, Leonardo shifted to one side as Michelangelo untied one kneepad, then the other. Both went into the box.

Leonardo was still up on his knees when Michelangelo reached behind him and slid his hand lightly along Leonardo’s leg, touching the sensitive back of his knee up to the cup of his thigh. With a choked gasp, Leonardo sat back down quickly, wincing at how loud the chain sounded in the small room. It pooled underneath, piled over his ankles, and then his little brother picked up the trailing end again.

Like a harness or heavy necklace, Michelangelo brought the chain up around Leonardo’s neck and back down his shell to his wrists, under his wrists, hefting his arms up slightly. It drew taut the loop around Leonardo’s neck so that he tried to bring his hands up to relieve the pressure, even if it was just an inch.

“Too tight, huh?” Michelangelo loosened the chain so it didn’t dig into Leonardo’s shoulders and throat, then brought the chain halfway up his shell and used the long ends to anchor it as he began wrapping it around his brother’s arms.

Leonardo winced as the metal wound around him, several loops that Michelangelo drew tight enough that they both knew there would be faint bruises in the morning.

“Don’t breathe in so much,” Michelangelo warned him. “No pushing your arms out to make room.”

“Sorry,” Leonardo muttered. “Kinda like breathing is all.”

Narrowing his eyes, Michelangelo yanked the chain back, pulling Leonardo against himself again so that Leonardo’s head fell back on his shoulder, staring up at the ceiling. Michelangelo was smiling, but his whisper was a low, wordless threat.

“Oh?”

Quick breaths gave Leonardo away. His brother’s whisper played over his throat, his lips touching his skin. A serious reminder that Michelangelo would bite.

“It’s just habit,” Leonardo grudgingly admitted, squeezing his eyes shut as his brother’s teeth scraped his throat. “Whatever, I can’t get loose anyway.”

A kiss. Forgiveness. Leonardo breathed out in relief.

“So don’t try,” Michelangelo said, letting him up again. “I know your tricks, too. Trying to make room to wriggle loose. Well, no Houdini acts tonight.”

The chain went around again, nearly to his shoulders, then another loop around his neck and down to his wrists. There was a loop around his palms, giving him something to hold onto and filling his hands. He wouldn’t be using anything as a makeshift lockpick, either, or to break one of the links.

Leonardo huffed again, but he was bound too tight to breathe deeply, like being trapped in a steel straitjacket.

“I get it, though,” Michelangelo said, too cheerful as he worked. “It’s scary, losing control like this. You really hate it, too, almost as much as Raph. Don’t worry. I’m gonna take good care of you. We’re gonna play, you’re gonna like it, and it’s gonna be our little secret. Promise.”

Then there was the snap of a lock to hold the chain fast.

“Hang on,” Michelangelo said. “Don’t want this sliding off.”

“Not much chance of that,” Leonardo said.

“Just keep that in mind and don’t fight,” Michelangelo said. “Now…how to do this…?”

While Michelangelo dug around in the box again, Leonardo took the moment to look down over himself. The top half of his body was encircled in chain. Despite Michelnagelo’s warnings, he tensed, then relaxed, breathed out as far as he could. It wasn’t much. The chain didn’t even shift.

“Turn around,” Michelangelo said. “I want you to see this.”

Grimacing, Leonardo sat up on his knees and laboriously turned, setting back down so that his weight rested on the bottom edge of his shell.

Michelangelo pulled out a handful of black straps in a tangle and set them on the floor, pulling them apart bit by bit. Michelangelo brought up the firt piece, holding it up so that Leonardo could see it clearly.

A thick canvas strap, dark blue, with a large O ring affixed to the center, and a steel plate with typeset script in the middle.

Fearless.

“It’s a collar,” Michelangelo said helpfully. “Pretty sturdy, too. I pulled hard on it and it didn’t give a bit.”

Not what Leonardo wanted to see. Bad enough to be Michelangelo’s toy for the night, but a collar? He closed eyes. And of all the things to put on it…

“…did you have to use _that_?” Leonardo sighed.

“Well, I didn’t want it to be your name,” Michelangelo said. “I didn’t want you to think of this all the time. Just when I use your nickname. And it fit.”

Michelangelo put the collar around Leonardo’s neck, tilting his brother’s  head so he could better see as he slid the end into the buckle and drew it snug against Leonardo’s skin. Then he added a small, light lock simply to keep it shut and to tap againt Leonardo’s neck, to constantly remind him that the collar was locked.

“Now the leash,” Michelangelo said.

He brought up the long canvas strap of the same color. It was visibly strong with a heavy snap hook at the end, and Michelangelo’s lips pressed together as he forced it open. The spring inside audibly creaked, and it closed loudly over the ring on Leonardo’s leash.

And then Michelangelo tugged the leash, his smile growing as Leonardo followed his movement. He wrapped the end of the leash around his hand a few times, holding it taut.

“Last part,” he whispered, almost amazed at himself for bringing it this far.

“There’s more?” Leonardo said.

“Just one more,” Michelangelo said.

Out of the box, he brought up a pair of furry orange cat ears on a band.

Leonardo’s eyes widened, and his gaze shifted to his brother’s with a sense of betrayal. He tried to lean back and hissed as the collar pulled tight, holding him fast.

“You sound like a kitty already,” Michelangelo said, keeping a firm hold on the leash. “Relax–I already said Raph and Don won’t see you. But I caught the bestest kitty in the lair and I wanna play.”

“You are one twisted freak,” Leonardo snapped, but he lowered his voice to less than a whisper.

“No,” Michelangelo said, the familiar manic grin returning. “I’m the twisted freak with the key. So be a good kitty.”

Gently pulling the leash, Michelangelo drew his brother close, holding him still for a kiss. And then he let Leonardo sit back on his knees again, placing the band of kitty ears on his head with all the solemnity of giving him a crown.

“There,” Michelangelo sighed, running his fingertip along the collar, tapping the chain. “Now…”

Leonardo turned his head, feeling his face flush. Ridiculous, just ridiculous, and all because he couldn’t handle being compared to Klunk. The humor of his little brother’s joke became more obvious, and worse was how Leonardo had no one to blame but himself for walking into such a childish trap.

  
_art by H0w_d0_y0u_d0_fell0w_kids_  


But as the silence stretched and his brother waited for him to adjust, to realize just how caught he was, to resign himself…Leonardo found his gaze drawn back up to his brother.

Michelangelo stared at him like a starving cat.

“…now?” Leonardo echoed.

“Now we have the whole night to play,” Michelangelo said.


	3. "Trust me."

Chess was not what Leonardo had expected to play, but Michelangelo brought out a footstool to set between them, then put the chessboard on top and set out the pieces one after the other. Leonardo watched his hands, then glanced up at him, eyes wide in confusion.

"Oh wow!" Michelangelo gasped, smacking the side of his head. "I can't believe I almost forgot."

Putting his hands on his brother's face, Michelangelo held him still for a moment, staring deep into his eyes. The silence stretched, and Leonardo started to tense up.

And then Michelangelo ran his fingers along Leonardo's mask, coming behind his head and undoing the knot. The mask was folded up beside the belt in the box, and Michelangelo picked up a key on the floor and put it inside as well.

"That's the key to let you go," Michelangelo explained, closing the box and putting a large padlock over it. "And this one...well, this one's for when we're done for the night."

Leonardo watched him take out a roll of duct tape and tear off a small bit. Then the last key was placed on the sticky flat of the tape...and pressed firmly against Leonardo's ass.

As Leonardo flushed red again, Michelangelo gave it another few pats to make sure the key was affixed and that the tape wouldn't come off.

"I'll get to that later," Michelangelo promised. "After we work it off."

Leonardo watched his brother lock the box with his gear inside, pushing it under the bed. Leonardo felt the loss of his gear sharply. The effect was subtle but palpable. For as little clothing as they wore, Michelangelo was dressed while Leonardo wore nothing but a collar.

"Okay," Michelangelo said, moving a white pawn to the center of the board. He sat back expectantly. "Your turn."

Leonardo glanced at the board, then back at his brother.

"Wait..." Leonardo said, hesitating. "What? You really...?"

"Dude," Michelangelo said as if it made any sense. "You're gonna be locked up like that for hours. I didn't expect you to start so early in the night, but I'm not letting you go any sooner. It's barely ten. I'm not letting you go 'till like five or six."

If he had blushed before, now Leonardo felt a chill run down his shell. Eight hours at his brother's mercy? Eight hours hoping no one walked in? They walked in on each other all the time. Being so close made it impossible to avoid. One odd gasp, one moan just a touch too loud--

"M-Mikey..." He winced at the way his voice hitched, but he couldn't help the quick sidelong glance at the door.

"Whoa, relax, relax..."

Michelangelo reached out and cupped his brother's face in his palm, running his thumb under his brother's eye. It forced Leonardo to look at him, to turn his focus back on the confidence that Michelangelo hoped he was projecting.

"You know I'd never let anything hurt you. And I promised Raph and Don won't see this. So just..."

With a small sigh, Michelangelo continued to stroke his brother's cheek, wearing him down until Leonardo turned his head slightly, leaning into his hand.

"Just let me be in charge," Michelangelo said. "Just for tonight. Trust me. I know it's asking a lot, but...trust me."

Michelangelo didn't push. He waited, softly petting him, listening to his breath come uneven and quick. The surge of fear hadn't left Leonardo's face, and the moment stretched, his brother shifting under chains that were too tight to let him breathe too deeply. Michelangelo fought the urge to bite his lip. He couldn't show any worry--the chain wasn't too tight, and leaving it any looser would have let Leonardo escape, and if Leonardo saw any hesitation on his face, his brother might--

Swallowing once, Leonardo closed his eyes, relaxing so that the chain creaked around his shifting shoulders. He pressed a kiss to Michelangelo's palm and waited.

Without Leonardo watching, Michelangelo's mouth parted slightly. He hadn't expected that so quickly. He'd expected an hour or two of sullen sarcasm. Not calm compliance.

Leonardo waited, but when nothing came, he curiously lifted his head. Michelangelo composed himself again and put his grin back in place.

"Okay, Fearless," he said, switching to the name he would use all night. "Your move on the board."

Narrowing his eyes, Leonardo didn't comment on the name. Instead he looked down at the pieces.

"And how am I supposed to move?" he asked.

Michelangelo smiled. There was the sullen note. Leonardo wouldn't fight, but he wouldn't go without a token protest, either.

"Use your mouth," Michelangelo said. "It's good for a lot more than just calling out katas in the dojo."

That did nothing to lighten Leonardo's mood, but now he was thinking less about the chains and his vulnerability and all about beating his little brother at chess. With a huff, he bent and caught the knight between his teeth, gingerly leaping it over a pawn to a new square.

"Good kitty," Michelangelo said, reaching up and tweaking the tabby ears so that the band shifted slightly. The sensation, he figured, would let Leonardo feel that small bit of dehuminization, just enough to let him know he had them on.

When he took Leonardo's first pawn, he followed it with another tweak.

"Heh, got your rook," he sing-songed a moment later, pulling the leash so he could deliver a quick kiss.

Three pawns, one after each other--a nose nuzzle and a whisper of "who's a good little kitty? Pushing around Mikey's toys. You like biting those funny little pieces, Fearless?"

It took laughably little. Leonardo's game faltered, fell apart. His concentration broke as he stared at the board, missed biting the bishop and had to try again. His queen fell soon after, and then--

"Check and mate," Michelangelo grinned, sweeping the pieces. "Don't worry, Fearless. Not like you were gonna win anyway."

"This isn't fair," Leonardo mumbled. "I can't concentrate."

"Well, yeah," Michelangelo said, chuckling. "Of course it ain't fair. You're my playful little kitty. Such a brave kitty, Fearless, playing a game you know you can't win."

And with that, Michelangelo took off his own bandanna and put it around his brother's eyes like a blindfold. Leonardo shied back and Michelangelo had to hold his head still, tying the bandanna with a good knot.

"What--" Leonardo started, too loudly, and Michelangelo put his finger on his brother's lips.

"Shh," Michelangelo said. "Loser's penalty. You must be feeling better in those chains if you're so worried about the blindfold."

"I just want to be able to see," Leonardo muttered under his finger.

"Aw, poor kitty."

Leonardo listened to his brother move. A slide of cloth and wood meant that the footstool was being slid to the side. A click and a whirr...another click and whirr...Leonardo couldn't place the sound. Maybe Donatello had made something for their little brother, a blood price to avoid being Michelangelo's target for one night?

"I could be...persuaded," Michelangelo said, drawing the word out. "To take off the blindfold."

Now his brother's hands lightly rested on either side of Leonardo's face, thumbs running just under the mask.

"'Persuaded'?" Leonardo echoed.

Michelangelo's hands patted his face, giving his kitty ears another tweak, and then glided over the chain, stopping at his thighs. Leonardo tensed. He was already kneeling as if he were in the dojo, and he couldn't help but press his knees tighter together.

So of course Michelangelo's fingers slid up to his plastron, then firmly insisted on being allowed between. Leonardo squirmed as his brother pressed down between his legs and began to push his knees apart. Warm palms cupped his thighs higher, higher, sliding up to the very edge of his plastron.

"So smooth right there," Michelangelo whispered. "No scars. No calluses."

Which left him sensitive to the playful feathery touches of Michelangelo's fingertips. The place where shell met skin—his brother touched, pressed, drew one finger down to reach just to—

Leonardo's breath hitched as Michelangelo brushed his tail.

They were not built completely like normal turtles, not anymore—how could they be after their mutation? But some things remained the same, and Michelangelo circled the base of Leonardo's tail with just enough pressure that Leonardo couldn't help leaning forward, resting against the shoulder suddenly supporting him. His breath quickened, and he pushed his hips down toward Michelangelo's hands, trying to gain just a little more pressure.

"Kitty likes it when I play with his tail?" Michelangelo whispered.

Leonardo ground his teeth in frustration. He could hear the smug grin his brother's voice.

"Does little kitty want to keep playing like this?"

The fingertips swirling around his tail might have been feathers—Leonardo tried not to groan. The light touches were somehow bringing him closer than a heavy touch might have. His tail hadn't even completely pulled back to reveal his cock, now finally coming to life—how did Michelangelo develop this kind of skill anyway? A part of him wondered if his little brother practiced on himself, and the rest of him kept his mouth tightly shut, refusing to answer to 'little kitty.'

The fingers left.

Gasping, Leonardo moaned as the air left his tail all but twitching in need, and the ache between his legs grew as he heard his brother rummaging through a noisy pile of something metallic. And then something firm encircled his tail and drew tight just as the base.

"Ever felt a cockring?" Michelangelo sing-songed in his ear.

From his dropped jaw and choked cry, Leonardo had not.

"Remember," Michelangelo said, "you didn't say you wanted to keep playing. If my little Fearless wants to keep playing, he's gotta say so."

Now the fingers came back for a token stroke, a feathery touch, and the ache only grew stronger. Leonardo remembered to breathe only to have his mouth covered with Michelangelo's in a kiss that pushed him back straight, resting on the edge of his shell. He would have fallen over if his brother hadn't held fast to his leash, holding him up by his collar.

The kiss released, and then the pressure from the collar was drawing him up, forcing him to put one foot down, then the other, lest he be strangled. Michelangelo was merciless, bringing him up on his toes.

"Naughty Fearless," Michelangelo whispered in his ear. "You gotta learn to behave. Kitties gotta do what their owners say."

Owner? Leonardo tried to step back—his brother's games never took that kind of turn before—and the leash suddenly turned taut, pulling upward.

Leonardo heard something click under his chin, and then Michelangelo had moved away from him, opening something across the room. Since Leonardo was still standing, precariously balanced as his collar pulled hard against his throat, he realized that his leash had been thrown over one of the pipes above them, then secured to the ring in his collar.

"Pets think that they're independent," Michelangelo said somewhere behind him. "But you gotta remember you're mine. You're my pet."

Something long and thin brushed against the back of his thighs, and Michelangelo was again whispering at his ear.

"Pampered and spoiled," Michelangelo said, easing the harsh reality with a kiss at his jaw. "But still my pet."

"Kinky little--" Leonardo started.

A long, thin rod slid between his lips, cutting him off. It pulled back deeper against his cheeks, just behind his canine teeth, and he felt Michelangelo's hands on either side of his face, tugging the rod far enough to keep him from talking.

"And my little pet gets a choice," Michelangelo said. His tone darkened, and the next warning sounded like it carried a real threat. "You're gonna get a punishment, but if you ask real nicely, I'll let you have a gag."

"'An' y 'uld I...?" Leonardo stopped trying to talk, huffing indignantly. There was no point when everything came out garbled.

"Heh." Michelangelo reached down with one hand, patting his brother's ass, tracing the outline of the key taped in place. "Why would you ask for a gag? Maybe 'cause I'm about to give you a little whipping, and unless you want to wake up Raph or Donny..."

He let the threat trail off. Leonardo didn't have to ask.

"Plus," Michelangelo said, "I have a lot of other games planned. A lot of other games. And this is the only time I'll let you ask for one. So if you want to keep this all to ourselves...?"

Leonardo squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want a gag. He didn't want to stay quiet. No, he didn't want to lose the ability to talk. But one by one, Michelangelo was robbing him of his senses, of being anything more than his pet. And Michelangelo was threatening to let his brothers see him crumble.

"Here, hold this a second."

Michelangelo let go of the rod. Leonardo obediently held it in his teeth, afraid of what his brother would do if he let it fall. Another click and whirr, that unfamiliar mechanical sound. Then the rod was removed and something tapped on his face.

It wasn't a rod, Leonardo realized. It was a whip.

"Where the hell did you get these things?" he asked.

"Donnie orders 'em for me," Michelangelo said.

"I don't believe it—why would he get you something you might use on him?"

"So I'll use it on someone else," Michelangelo said. "So what'll it be? Gag, or you think you can hold it?"

In this fight? Leonardo would have let his head fall if that wouldn't have choked him.

"...fine," he muttered.

"Ah ah ah," Michelangelo said. "Ask for it nicely."

Strange that this and not the hand job should have made him blush.

"...please gag me," Leonardo said, sounding more like he was asking for ritual suicide.

"Such a good boy, Fearless," Michelangelo said. "One more time so I know you mean it?"

It came easier now that it had already been said, and in a much smaller voice. "Please gag me."

"Good kitty," Michelangelo said. "Good little Fearless. Open wide."

Leonardo opened his mouth, then discovered that Michelangelo really did mean wide. Something as large as his fist shoved past his teeth, filling his mouth, a ball of thick cloth puffing his cheeks slightly. Then something rough and scratchy pressed against his face, winding around his head, packing the cloth inside and then securing it so he couldn't push it out.

"Ace bandages," Michelangelo said, patting the end of the bandage down. "Good for so much more than practice."

Another click and whirr, and then Michelangelo had was running the edge of the whip down his face, letting him feel the flat tip as it slid down his shoulder and side. It lingered threateningly on his thigh, running over the key, and then it vanished.

Under the blindfold, Leonardo squeezed his eyes shut, tensing in anticipation.

When the first blow came, the gag muffled him so that no one but Michelangelo caught his strangled cry.


	4. Lying Little Kitty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning -- at this point, the plan is for the fic to take a darker turn. Not a huge one, but Michelangelo begins to train his brother in earnest, and he ignores being told 'no'. He has his sibling's best interests at heart, but his way of expressing it is not going to be gentle.
> 
> This kind of bondage is not safe, not sane and is very dubiously consensual, and it's going to get more elaborate and objectifying as the story goes on. If this bothers you, backpedal quickly.

Each blow of the whip came like its own shock, each a light red mark slowly rising on Leonardo's skin. A fine bead of sweat grew at his temples as he tensed too long, trying to steel himself for each stroke, his hips bucking despite himself as the edge of the whip lay across him like a fiery kiss.

He'd lost count, scolding himself for how he was reacting—ridiculous to act like he was being tortured. They'd hit each other far worse in the dojo, trading bruises that lingered for days. He knew that these welts would fade within a few hours, but each was so deliberately placed, thin strips of pain laid one by one across the backs of his thighs, that he couldn't help but feel the fullness of every line.

With the blindfold on, his training betrayed him. Between the strokes, he felt the faint wind over the whip, felt the movement of his brother stepping around him for a better angle. Heard his own breath struggling to stay even, shuddering underneath his weakening control. The whip was quiet despite how much it stung, too quiet to wake his siblings...at least he hoped it was too quiet.

It went for what felt like long minutes: the whip landed on his skin, slid off, and then Michelangelo's callused hand rubbed the wound, soothed the pain, ran his fingertips along the rising welt. Michelangelo stepped up close behind him, flush against his shell, and reached around to catch Leonardo's throat in his hand. Michelangelo squeezed lightly, his grip just enough to choke...and he lingered, Leonardo's mouth opening around his gag for air that wasn't to be had. The chain creaked as Leonardo struggled, shifting his arms for any hope of release, and the soft noise that came out of his throat startled him with its need.

Michelangelo relaxed, his point made. Leonardo's head slipped farther and farther back, pressing hard against the chain around his throat, and Michelangelo put his arm around him, supporting him so he didn't inadvertently hang himself.

"How funny," Michelangelo whispered in his ear. "That wasn't even a full workout and you've already got a fine layer of sweat on you."

His hand ghosted down the side of Leonardo's shell, lightly fingering the edge of the tape holding the key in place. His fingertip ran a circle over the tape, vanished, then came back with a hard slap that made his brother yelp behind the gag.

"Still pretty firmly attached, too." Michelangelo punctuated himself with a bite to his brother's throat, pressing hard enough that they both knew it would leave a mark. Any complaint Leonardo could have made was muffled by cloth stuffed in his mouth, and he twisted uselessly as Michelangelo pressed a kiss to the bitten skin, licking at it in fake apology.

"Best way to work off that tape," Michelangelo whispered, coming around to face him, "is to make you work a little. Ready?"

Leonardo had no time to wonder what he meant as his brother reached down and gathered Leonardo's thighs, one in each arm, hauling him up off the floor. Leonardo instinctively put his legs around Michelangelo's waist, holding tight. The chain jangled around his throat, now a terrifying threat if Michelangelo lost his grip.

"Hang tight," his brother said, readjusting him. "Don't wanna drop ya. Then Donny'd really have my head."

Here was the real reason for the gag, Leonardo thought. Michelangelo didn't want him to have any way to complain. Or call for—

A warm, slick presence pressed at his ass, hesitated, and then entered as Michelangelo slowly lowered Leonardo onto his shaft. The cry that escaped came garbled through the gag, and Leonardo felt his face heat up. The bandages of the gag had compressed and slid between his teeth, forming a harsh cleave that only filled his mouth further, strangling his voice.

"Oh yeah..." Michelangelo breathed, holding his brother still, adjusting himself as Leonardo's legs more firmly clung to him. Closing his eyes, he let Leonardo sink further and further down his cock, then lifted his brother back up several inches.

"Man..." Michelangelo kissed the corner of Leonardo's mouth, then let his brother sink again. "Should've done this...ages ago...oh man...'m glad you made me lift, bro'. Don't mind all that training anymore..."

Leonardo barely heard him, his head lolling onto Michelangelo's shoulder. He'd lain with his brother before, but never like this—restrained, completely manhandled, treated like a plaything. His brother filled him to bursting, but he could find no satisfaction as the ring around his tail prevented him from any kind of relief. Lost in growing waves of pleasure and frustration, he hung helplessly in Michelangelo's hands, his body growing weaker until he could no longer try to hold himself up. Hoping that his brother wouldn't drop him, he moaned with every thrust, grateful for the gag that kept him from waking Raphael or Donatello.

On the other hand, Michelangelo found himself having to juggle holding his brother securely and not stumbling as his legs grew weak, shaking as he came harder than he would have thought possible so early in the night. The thought of dropping his brother with the chain still around his neck sent cold, sobering chills through his spine, and Michelangelo held him tight for several seconds, standing straight, balancing properly.

"Fun," Michelangelo whispered to himself, struggling to lift his brother one last time off of his cock. "Ten outta ten, would recommend...once. Only for the most advanced kama sutra turtles, though."

When he set Leonardo back on his feet, he found that he had to steady his brother, holding him close and grabbing the bottom of his shell in one hand for leverage. When he was sure Leonardo wouldn't stumble, Michelangelo reached up with his other hand and undid the spring clip at his brother's collar. He took several tries to slip the curve of metal out from under the collar's ring, but as soon as it came free, the leash slid safely from the pipe overhead.

"There we go." Michelangelo bent and scooped his brother up, cradling him in both arms. Leonardo's head lay on his shoulder, blindfolded, gagged, and Michelangelo was struck by how docile his brother was behaving, how much Leonardo had stopped fighting and simply given in. His brother breathed heavily, hanging limp.

"Let's go lie down," Michelangelo said, carrying him to the bed. He lay down next to him, pillowing Leonardo's head on his arm, holding him close.

"Comfy?" Michelangelo ran his knuckles over Leonardo's cheek, stroking over the blindfold. "Want me to take off the gag?"

Leonardo nodded once, weakly, then again, as if he had to collect his strength for even that much.

"Okay, we'll take off the gag. 'Cause you're being such such a good kitty."

Awkwardly fumbling, he found the corner of the bandage and picked at it, tugging it up until he could grip it firmly. Moving in slow, gentle circles, he unwound it and then pulled free the heavy rags he'd stuffed into his sibling's mouth. Leonardo groaned as they came out, swallowing reflexively, and lay pliant as Michelangelo took advantage for a kiss.

"So weak now?" Michelangelo whispered. "Did my kitty turn out to be a little kitten instead?"

"...I..." Leonardo tilted his head, trying to rub the blindfold off of his face. "Mikey..."

"Aw, poor little kitten." Michelangelo touched his lips, circling his fingertips around his brother's mouth before driving them in, stroking Leonardo's tongue, the back of his teeth.

Leonardo startled at the invasion, more intimate than Michelangelo's shaft. That had been expected. This strange feeling of his mouth being touched and groped took him by surprise, especially as his jaw was held fast, pulling him forward for Michelangelo's tongue—not a kiss but a tasting, holding him open as his brother explored him with the deliberate curiosity of a cat worrying at its toy.

"You're so nice to have like this," Michelangelo said, licking along his jaw. "It hasn't even been half an hour yet...I could do this all night."

"Mikey..." Leonardo started squirming, wincing as his brother's hand moved down his shell, pulling him close. Then Michelangelo's hand closed around his tail and Leonardo bucked.

"You didn't get to come, did ya?" Michelangelo asked, his thumb trailing the cockring. "Still all pent up. Don't worry, kitty, I'll let you come...in a few hours, I think."

"No..." Leonardo mumbled, wriggling in his chains. "I can't..."

"Sure you can," Michelangelo said, and he tugged lightly on his tail, flicking the tip. "Put all that discipline to good use."

"Please, I can't do this—" Leonardo choked, gritting his teeth, bowing his head as if he could contain all the pressure building inside of himself. He writhed in earnest, panting for breath, curling close to his brother. "It's too much, it's too much...I can't—"

"Too overwhelming?" Michelangelo sat up, looming over him and cupping his face. "Can't handle it?"

"No, I can't—" Leonardo breathed too quickly, turning his head into his brother's hand for comfort. "Please, let me go, let me..."

"It's okay, it's okay," Michelangelo said, and he ran his thumb over Leonardo's cheek. "Just trust me."

"No, Mikey, please." Leonardo's whispers became intent, frenzied as he tensed up tight, clearly on the verge of a panic attack. "I can't do this, I can't do this..."

"Okay, okay, calm down," Michelangelo said, sliding his fingers under the blindfold and slipping it off. He stared into Leonardo's wide eyes for a moment, still running his thumb over his cheek.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Michelangelo said. "After all, you know I'd totally untie you if I thought you were being legit."

Leonardo blinked. His breath froze as his shivering stopped.

"I know my little kitty," Michelangelo said, and his thumb's stroking turned into his whole hand petting Leonardo's cheek and throat like a pet. "Naughty little thing."

Swallowing now in real nervousness, Leonardo found himself pressed into the mattress as Michelangelo threw a leg over him, straddling his plastron and resting on his elbows on him. His brother's smile was broad, self-satisfied and promised trouble.

"You're good at bluffing people who don't know you," Michelangelo said, sing-song in his teasing. "But I know you...bestest ninja is bestest liar."

There was no panic in Leonardo's eyes, no heavy breathing. He shifted underneath his brother only to feel the weight increase, Michelangelo no longer holding all of his weight on his knees. The more his brother relaxed on him, the more Leonardo lay trapped.

"I'm gonna put that mouth to much better use," Michelangelo said. "I promise I'll be nice. I always knew you were gonna take awhile to train."

"'Train'?" Leonardo echoed. "For what?"

"For being the bestest kitty, of course." Michelangelo tweaked the fake cat ears on his brother's head. "I gotta train you so you get used to walking on a leash, being locked up, taking orders..."

Leonardo frowned. "I'm the one who gives orders, Mikey, that won't change—"

Michelangelo touched his finger to Leonardo's lips, shushing him.

"See, that's what I gotta train outta ya. That willful streak." Michelangelo rolled his eyes. "Of course you're still leader...in the dojo, when we go out, yeah, you're the boss."

He grinned down at his bound brother.

"But in here...you're my kitty."

Leonardo gave a sudden, reflexive twist in his chains, straining to find a weak link or a loose length, and he winced as Michelangelo pushed him flat again.

"I caught you fair and square," Michelangelo said. "I collared you, leashed you and you agreed that I can do whatever I want with you. Now—"

Letting go of his brother's tongue, he sat straight and began to scoot up along Leonardo's body. He rested his weight on his knees, kneeling on either side of his brother's head, and let his tail press against Leonardo's mouth.

"I'm just about ready for another go," Michelangelo said. "Open up."

Still fuming, Leonardo pressed his lips together and turned aside.

Michelangelo wagged his tail across his brother's face, hissing a breath as his cock swelled. "Your choice. Either you open up or this is gonna make a mess."

Leonardo didn't respond except to close his eyes.

A tiny shocked laugh escaped out of Michelangelo.

"Dumb Mikey," he said to himself, shaking his head once. "Should know better than to think you'd make it easy for me."

He shrugged. "Fine. I'm not the one picking fights while I'm tied up and helpless."

That brought a reaction as Leonardo all but snarled. "I'm not—"

As planned. Michelangelo's tail slid in to his brother's opened mouth, suffering the brief crush of teeth as Leonardo was cut off. The satisfaction of victory made the pain worth it as his cock began to swell to the back of his brother's throat.

"Not helpless?" Michelangelo echoed. "Then stop me, Fearless."

The blow job that followed was less about coming and more about simply showing his sibling who was in control. Michelangelo's smug grin punctuated each abbreviated thrust, and when he felt himself on the verge, he drew back and dragged his cock across Leonardo's face. A white trail dribbled out just below his brother's eyes, trickling down in tiny streaks before Michelangelo left a final trace across his lips.

"I'd make a kitty and cream joke," Michelangelo said, "but I didn't make you swallow."

Leonardo didn't answer, his face hot to the touch, and he said nothing as Michelangelo climbed off of him. His little brother gave him a wan smile, reaching up to toy with the lock on the collar. It jangled against the metal loop of the leash, and Michelangelo wound the thick canvas around his fist.

"Well, there's only one thing I can do after that," he said, pulling on the leash as he stood. "Come on, kitty. It's safest to do this now."

"'Safe'?" Leonardo asked despite himself. He resisted the draw on the leash until it became a rough yank.

"Yeah," Michelangelo said, leading him to the door. "Raph and Don have already taken their showers and gone to bed."

His heart leaping into his throat, Leonardo dug his heels into the concrete, refusing to take another step.

"You can't," he whispered. "You promised they wouldn't see!"

"I promised not to play with you where they would see," Michelangelo said. "And they won't. I'll lock the door, we'll take a quick bath, you take your punishment, and then we come back up here. No one but us ever knows."

Leonardo didn't stop struggling, wincing as Michelangelo pulled him another step closer. If anything, that brought cold chills down his shell.

"'Punishment'?" he whispered.

"Well, yeah," Michelangelo said as if it was obvious. "I can't have my kitty lying to me, and then you refused to follow my orders. Don't worry—just some discipline to remind you that you're my pet."

Off-balance, locked up in chains, Leonardo couldn't resist as Michelangelo drew him out the door and into the darkness of the lair. They both fell silent as they crossed the main room, listening for the slightest sound from the other rooms. Leonardo felt like the lights could come on at any moment, like a thousand eyes were watching him. His brother's come on his face felt cool as Leonardo turned red in embarrassment.

"Not more whipping," he murmured, wincing as the cooler air hit the welts still fading on his thighs. "It'd be too loud."

"Not when the door's locked," Michelangelo said softly. "But nah, I'm not gonna whip ya. That's not punishment. That's just for fun. Punishment...that's to teach you a lesson."

Leaning back on a taut leash, Leonardo had no choice but to follow his brother into the bathroom. Then the door locked behind them, sealing him in.

 


End file.
